“If this is what I think it is, they should be safe where they are!” I yell through the torrent of rocks.
The night splits open with light—not soft like Starlight, but burning gold, searing through shadow.
A Gateway of Threads yawns open into a gleaming portal.
“Mavyrn,” Therion murmurs, and the brusque woman walks through the Gateway as if she didn’t just rain an avalanche of razor-edged shards down on us.
“The old bat? Kinda missed her—she was a good time,” Ronyn says sincerely.
The rumbling settles, and Jax retracts the Nullveil.
“What are you doing here?” Therion snaps, indignant.
“Nehvara warned me this was coming,” she bites back, stalking towards us, the heavy fabric of her skirts dragging across the ground behind her. “I knew you’d walk this path, but you’re ill-equipped to handle it. How in the Stars did you plan on getting out of Kryntar? Boys and their idiotic plans!” she scoffs with disdain. “Andhe,” she spits, pointing at Death, “just puts a bigger target on your back.”
Nehvara? How the fuck does she know Nehvara?
“I agree,” Jax concurs, folding her arms across her chest, smug as sin.
“I actually think that might be the first time I’ve ever heard you agree…with anything,” Ronyn quips with a sly smirk on his face.
“Ronie!” Seren admonishes.
“And I agree with Ronyn about Jax never agreeing with anything,” Daelen calls from behind us, Rubi slumped in his arms.
“Rubi!” Therion rasps, panic slicing through his words. “What happened?”
“She slept through the whole thing. Think she knocked herself out with brask,” Daelen answers.
Therion lets out an exhausted sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How the fuck are we related?” He exhales, the question more to himself than anyone else.
Rubi creaks one eye open, and raising an arm, she drags a sloppy hand down Therion’s cheek, “Why so serious, Teddy? I’m here for a good time, not a long time. You need to loosen up.” Her hand trails down his chest, before hiccuping and curling back into Daelen’s chest.
Mavyrn’s beady eyes drag across us, sharp and critical. Her bedraggled gray hair hangs across her shoulders like it hasn’t been brushed…ever.
“So, this is the unit tasked with reclaiming The Lightborne and breaking Maldrak’s spell?” Mavyrn presses, incredulous. “Andyouthink you can do this without your magic? Foolish child,” she stares me down, poking a crooked finger in my face, the tarnished silver ring on her finger glinting in the moonlight.
Fuck.
All eyes shoot to me, save for Therion. He tips his head back, looking to the Stars for answers.
“Gods, son. You have done more stupid things in the last few weeks than your entire life combined,” Merrik chastises. “Explain,” he demands.
“No explanation could justify this, Kael,” Jax snaps.
“Mind your tongues,” I snap icily. “We cut a deal.”
Mavyrn shakes her head in admonishment, like I’m still the same young child for her to lecture.
“We can’t kill Maldrak until we’ve broken the curse on the Marked. The spell Maldrak used must be reversed—only then can we cull him.”
Therion lets out a furious growl.
“So, how does this explain your magic, or rather, your lack thereof?” he snaps, voice cutting.
I don’t like being challenged. Not even by my General.
“Morrathys will help us rescue Elyssara and reverse the spell, but he’s weak—Maldrak drains his power every day. I gave him my magic so we could see this through,” I say curtly, not interested in a discussion.
